Earlier this week, Krusty posted some comments about the lack of "adventure" in the reports on this site. In return, he received many attacks upon his character for his efforts. I wanted to post this report for Mr. Krusty to prove we do indeed have some great adventures here and his comments only inspire us to reach for more. Today, MsB and I decided to retrace our steps on an expedition we made more than 21 yrs ago, before we wed. A dangerous undertaking deep inside a dark land known only as....Mississippi! It was only her second time on the back of a motorcycle those many years ago and it was the dead of winter. Luckily, there had been only one small case of frozen snot face. This trip would be in milder weather. A trip like this requires long and extensive preparation, so I rose early, checked the tire pressure, and packed two instead of the usual one water bottle. With the preparations complete, we headed for an outpost known as Bogalusa, La. Not knowing what lies ahead, we took on as much fuel as we could carry, pointed our trusty steeds toward the rising sun, and screamed with excited inside our helmets. Back on the road, it wasn't long before we had slipped past the border leaving all ties and safety behind. Our goal was to find an encampment we had visited on our previous expedition known as the Flint Creek Water Park. This is a strange land with many mysterious tribes. Though we were not successful last time, we would try once again to site members of one tribe that is said to exist in this land. They are rumored to wear white bed linen and a strange pointed head dress. A dangerous and stealthy klan, they only come out at night so none will ever know their true identity. We hoped to find evidence of this tribe for ourselves, having only seen old documentaries used to bring down the good character of all the other tribes in this beautiful country. After a long hard ride, we entered the small settlement of Wiggins. I knew we were close to the encampment now and began to get excited with anticipation. Then, there it was. An old totum erected by the local tribesman to mark the way to the encampment. There are only a handful of us other than the local people who can decifer the ancient carvings. Loosely translated it reads "This is the path to the swimming hole". Week from hungar, we had stopped earlier and traded for some of the native foods. On our last trip, we had dined on turtle soup prepared over a backpacker's stove. We opted for something more exotic this time. Our strenth replenished, we mounted up to search the encampment. Though the landscape was beautiful, the roads were trecherous. MsB did manage a bit of stunt riding, giving the salute while navigating the bad roads. At the end of one of these trails, we came upon a fishing port. We never did find the white robed tribe, but did cross paths with a band of nomads. And then a great find, an ancient aqua system of some sort. We investigate further. The local people had placed many warnings to keep away strangers. Continueing on the ever deteriorating trail, I decide to teach MsB the Coonass riding technique known as "Ride it like someone wants to make a fuzzy hat out of your ass" I'll let the remaining photos of this strange and magical place speak for themselves. The sun was getting low and the shadows long. I would need all my tracking skills to retrace our path home. It was good to return to this land filled with old memories. All those years ago I must have impressed MsB with all my adventurer's skills like riding & wilderness cooking. It wasn't long after that trip that we were married. We finally find our way home after this long and exciting 150 mi. expedition to the lands of the east. Dirty and tired we take account of the day. The equipment held up well and no lives were lost. We saw beautiful lands and met some wonderful people. All in all a harmonious outcome. Epilogue to Krusty: bite me!